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If you’re anything like me, and around the same age, your first chance encounter with CIV probably came in the form of their 1995 video for “Can’t Wait One Minute More”. As a Midwestern fifteen year old kid hearing what was, at the time, seemingly just a catchy song and moderately entertaining video, I had no idea of the resounding implications it would cause; the full scale musical genesis that was going on, unbeknownst to me, in my life. I was just an impressionable youth watching MTV-who at the time still actually played music videos (for better or worse) – and didn’t realize I was gaining my first insights into hardcore.
Now, CIV itself did not play quite as a significant role as the last paragraph might have let on; it was my discovery months later that the band was headed up by Anthony Civarelli, former vocalist of legendary hardcore band Gorilla Biscuits that really served to promote my growth in the punk rock and hardcore scenes. But CIV was an important piece in the overall puzzle. By age fifteen, I was totally immersed in skateboard culture and had been listening to bands like Pennywise, NOFX and No Use for a Name, but it was this chance viewing of a music video that really set the groundwork for getting into what I found was the ‘real stuff’…the meat and potatoes of independent music that would set me on a path that leads up to today and the days following this. Weird how that works out.
CIV did not play traditional hardcore music by a long stretch; most of their songs were a blending of hardcore and pop punk with a lot of elements of what would have been referred to as an ‘alternative’ sound. Every once in a while though, the Gorilla Biscuits references would shine through and “Do Something”, “State of Grace” and “Gang Opinion” are perfect examples of this. Regardless of what classification you want to lump their songs into, CIV’s songs were catchy and fun and at the end of the day that’s all that matters.
This double disc discography is great for conveniently having their full catalog in one package (duh.) complete with B-sides and live tracks. If you like CIV, but were never inspired enough to go and search out all their releases, like me, then this is the perfect alternative option.
I first heard The Wonder Years when I reviewed their full length, Get Stoked On It last year, and despite my being somewhat gracious with how I handled what was clearly mediocre music (at best) the only thing I got stoked on was when I finished the review and passed the CD on to a more interested, and much younger, individual. So, when this split 7″ arrived in the mail, I still wasn’t stoked, but I thought these boys deserved another chance. So I gave it. And they blew it.
This whole fashion-centric, bastardized version of pop punk needs to die a quick, painful death already. I have endured years of being ear raped by all of these heirs to the New Found Glory throne; and if sacrificial lambs must be offered up to please the fickle music gods in order to break this vicious cycle, then I will strap The Wonder Years to a stone altar myself.
When it comes down to it, The Wonder Years are just an updated version of a boy band; only one that walks along some weird chasm of pseudo ‘punk’ edginess-in very miniscule doses- and has just enough ironic facial hair to incite the bad boy fantasies of fifteen year old girls. This music is sub-par and the lyrics sophomoric and too saccharine for my liking. I would suggest that these guys throw out all of their Drive Thru Records pop influences and maybe look back to the real wisdom of Screeching Weasel, Fifteen and Lifetime for musical enlightenment.
And All or Nothing, well, their half of this oversized coaster is slightly less retarded. Musically, they have a little more oomph to their sound, but fall short with their insistence on utilizing the stereotypical nasally pop punk voice. Now, I’m not saying that All or Nothing’s music is really worthwhile, I’m merely stating that compared to The Wonder Years, listening to their songs is like stepping on a dog turd rather than waltzing through cow shit. Either way, you have to scrape it off your shoe at the end of the day…and that’s exactly what I’m going to do now.
Nobunny is undeniable proof that a ridiculous gimmick has the power to completely overshadow relatively subpar music and not only make the whole situation seem palatable but ingenious! If you think Chuck Taylors are worth fifty bucks, have suffered a debilitating head injury or, to be fair, just easily amused; you will love Nobunny.
When not foraging for food throughout forest and field, carefully avoiding predators such as coyotes and rattlesnakes, Nobunny writes and performs songs that are heavily influenced by the Ramones, or at least influenced by bands that are influenced by the Ramones. Love Visions is a collection of bubblegum punk tunes guaranteed to make pop punk kids who love leather jackets and Converse feel all funny in their nether regions.
Unfortunately, I find bubblegum punk, the Ramones and leather jackets boring. I’m sure the whole bunny mask/carrot microphone gag gets a lot of laughs at sweaty basement shows, but it doesn’t convince me that the music is any more vital. Love Visions, at times, is somewhat funny and mildly amusing but ultimately falls short of what I look for in an album and from music in general.
There’s nothing new under the sun, especially when it comes to music. Try as you might, I bet you can’t come up with one truly original band. Music is just a continuous reimagining of leftover drum beats and recycled riffs. Lyrical content is usually the gauntlet in which bands are made or laid to waste. The boys of Monikers readily acknowledge this, and they’re better for it.
My girlfriend has pointed out, on numerous occasions, that I predominantly listen to two categories of music: bands that sound like Kid Dynamite and bands that sound like Jawbreaker, in some way or another. I always try to protest this fact; but she’s got me dead to rights. Monikers certainly fit into the Jawbreaker category. If you’re going to emulate somebody, you really can’t go wrong by biting off of Blake Schwarzenbach and company.
Their previous EP, Eat Your Young was an older East Bay pop punk sounding kick in the head complete with gritty melody and phlegmy vocals courtesy of Ryan Seagrist, formerly of Discount, and Wake Up follows suit. If you’re looking for difference or improvement; don’t waste your time, none was given and none was needed. Take the minimalistic and slightly rough-around-the-edges approach of Crimpshrine, the raspy vocals of the aforementioned Jawbreaker and wipe it across a sweaty Midwestern basement floor and you come up with this full length. It’s that simple.
You won’t find much variety on Wake Up and despite the fact that that is usually a major hindrance on an album in regards to replay value, the album still holds up pretty well. I can’t really differentiate one song from the next on this album, so there are no high or low points to be found here. No single track is more or less exciting than the last. This album is far from being a hit with me, but I really do appreciate the fact that it kind of takes me back to when I got into punk rock in the first place. It’s a good record; no more, no less.
I looked at the cover to Invasions of the Mind and my first thought was, “Okay, we’ve got some little horned creatures stabbing a tree with spears, and the tree has a face…here we go again”. Did Bridge Nine sign a fantasy metal band? Trendy metalcore? A frightening combination of the two? And as I was making preparations to give this thing its inaugural listen, visions of wizards and goblins with devil locks and tight jeans danced in my head.
I was wrong, but what this album is, is total AFI worship. The good aspects of that fact is that Invasions of the Mind is, in some ways, reminiscent of AFI’s more melodic hardcore days rather than their newer incarnation as a troupe of gothy, glam rock transvestites. However, songs like “The Satellite and the Hit” and “Hunter Red” are too fucking sugary sounding and are littered with lyrics that you’d find in written in a sad, shaggy haired kid’s diary.
I like the fast pace of “400”, it kind of harkens back to some of the speedier early nineties hardcore that I love so much, but the ‘whoa oh’ parts are extremely overdone. When Energy actually makes an effort to be a little more aggressive, their sound really comes together and shines; perfect examples of this are “The Silence” and “Brickstone” which flawlessly walks the balance of melody and violence. Both are pretty catchy and peppered with excellent screamed vocals. If the band would have stuck with this formula, Invasions of the Mind would’ve left a much better impression on me.
The sad thing is the fact the vocalist has a great voice capable of excellent harmonies that ultimately fail due to the sophomorically dark emo-kid lyrics. Despite a couple of well executed standout tracks, this album is largely forgettable.
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